


A Little Help

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Amporacest, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bulges and Nooks, First Time, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get heated between Cronus and Eridan. Cronus has no idea what he's doing. And it’s hard to think ‘sexy’ when your partner can’t figure out where things are supposed to fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help

Kissing is nice, he’ll always admit that. Eridan remembers kissing Feferi once or twice when they were younger -- just a couple of stupid curious kids, barely three sweeps old -- but he hasn’t experienced anything quite like this.

Cronus kisses hungrily, almost like he needs lip-to-lip contact to survive. It could well be the older Ampora’s lifeblood, the way he’s running his tongue along Eridan’s lips, practically begging for more. Somewhere along the line, both of them discarded their shirts. They, like Eridan’s scarf and cape, are lying dishevelled on the floor. Eridan glances over at the crumpled pile of violet in the corner and curses himself for not hanging it up properly. The wrinkles will be impossible to get out after a few hours of lying forgotten on the ground.

“What’s wrong, babe?” comes the voice, snapping Eridan back to reality. Right. Kissing his ancestor -- descendant -- whatever Cronus is. It’s like making out with himself, but the mirror image is twenty times more of an asshole than he ever was. And that, Eridan thinks, is saying something.

“Nothin’,” he replies, sitting up a little.

Cronus eyes him suspiciously, blank eyes narrowing under raised eyebrows. “You sure about that, chief?”

Eridan only knows one way to shut the other royalblood up. He rolls his eyes, takes Cronus’ face in his hands, and kisses him hard.

Cronus reciprocates once the initial shock wears off. His hands wander blindly to the zipper on Eridan’s pants. He fumbles with the button-clasp clumsily, mumbling curses into Eridan’s mouth.

“Need a little help with that, Cro?” Eridan teases, breaking the kiss.

“I got this,” Cronus grumbles. “Just gimme a minute here--”

Before Cronus can finish his sentence, Eridan reaches downward and flicks it open with his fingers.

“Not that hard,” he smirks.

Cronus grips Eridan’s wrists and shoves him downward, pinning him to the floor with a lustful grin. “I can show you what is.”

Eridan twists in his grasp. “Now ain’t _that_ a pickup line for the ages.”

“Shh, babe,” Cronus whispers huskily, then leans down to kiss him.

This kiss is different. _Sexy_ , almost, if not for the unpleasant sensation of Cronus’ tongue in his mouth. It feels, he decides, like a wet slug. Eridan curses Cronus’ upper-body strength as he tries to wrestle free of his grip -- _one hand_ he’s got him with -- to no avail.

Then Cronus’ other hand is on his hip, and he’s sliding Eridan’s pants down, or at least _trying_ to.

“I could--” Eridan splutters between breaths, trying to avoid the onslaught of the slug tongue. “I can get that, if you want--”

“Babe,” Cronus smiles down at him -- thank _god_ , no more tongue. “I know how to take off a pair of pants.”

“So prove it,” Eridan replies, wiping the saliva from his lips.

In seconds, Cronus’ pants are cast aside in an unceremonious heap. Eridan looks him up and down, stopping on the length of his unsheathed bulge.

“Not half bad, Ampora,” he grins. He can let the kissing slide for now; that can be fixed with practice, he figures.

“I could say the same for you, if you’ll let me continue.”

“Allow me.” Eridan slides his pants and boxers down his legs and onto the floor. He kicks them to the side -- and there’s _another_ thing to press later -- and looks back up at Cronus. “Now?”

Cronus is grinning from fin to fin. “Wow,” he exclaims. “You’re a catch, y’know. Real catch. I mean it.”

“You flatter me,” Eridan says. “Now where were we?”

And Cronus is on top of him again, kissing him desperately. This time Eridan leads, sliding his tongue into Cronus’ mouth and tracing swirls onto his. The older Ampora lowers himself down so their bulges can coil around one another. Cronus gasps when they make contact; Eridan arches his back in a fit of pleasure and bites Cronus’ lip in the process.

He pulls out of the kiss, breathing heavily. “Go ahead.”

Cronus stops for a moment, glancing to the side. “You’re okay? Bein’ the bottom? If y’want I can--”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Eridan hisses, pulling Cronus down for another kiss.

“Hold on, chief, I gotta--” Cronus fidgets, groping blindly between Eridan’s legs with one hand. “Gotta make sure I don’t--”

Eridan wraps his arms around Cronus’ neck, still kissing him. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes as Cronus’ hand fumbles around their intertwined bulges. He’s moving between bulge and nook, alternating between grasping his own bulge and losing it when he makes a move toward Eridan’s nook.

“Damn it -- come back here,” Eridan hears him mumble. “How th’fuck am I supposed to--”

Eridan lifts a hand and gently pushes them apart. Cronus freezes.

“Tell me,” he says, his bulge sheathing itself as he speaks. “Have you ever done this before?”

Cronus’ bulge is, by comparison, still writhing pathetically between his legs.

“Wh- that’s ridiculous, babe, of course I have! Just havin’ a little bit of trouble, thing’s got a mind of its own, y’know--”

Eridan looks Cronus in the eyes, no longer smiling. “Don’t lie to me, Cro.”

Cronus bites his lip, and he pulls his knees to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

“I’ve read books,” he mutters sheepishly, face flushing violet. “Seen movies. Thought it was easier.”

“Doesn’t mean you know how it’s done,” Eridan replies. “Why’d you go for it? Coulda told me before you started tryin’ to shove your tongue down my throat.”

“I--” Cronus’ words catch in his throat, and he turns away. “Wanted to... impress ya. I put on a show, y’know, like I’ve got experience and all. Didn’t want ya to run away before we got here.”

“So you’re a pretentious asshole and a liar now,” Eridan huffs.

“M’sorry, chief,” Cronus mumbles. “Go ‘head and go. I sure as hell don’t deserve ya after this.”

Silence for a moment, and then there are arms wrapped around Cronus’ shoulders.

“Cro,” Eridan addresses him, “you’re pathetic. Guilt-trippin’ ain’t gonna do anythin’ for you.”

“Workin’ fine right now.”

“ _Cronus_.”

Cronus flinches at the sound of his full name coming from Eridan’s mouth. “Sorry.”

“You need work,” Eridan continues. “A lot of it, ‘cause you can’t even figure out a glubbin’ button, much less a nook.”

Cronus grumbles softly.

“But y’know, you’re okay.”

Cronus’ fins perk slightly. “Ya mean it?”

“I wouldn’t still be here if you weren’t worth my time, idiot.”

“Whoa, cut the sentimentality, chief,” he chuckles sarcastically.

“D’you want to work this out or not?”

Cronus turns, releases himself from Eridan’s arms, and wraps his own around the younger troll. He nuzzles into Eridan’s neck, thrumming softly.

“You are such a goddamn sap, Cro.”

“Ya love it.”

Eridan returns the embrace, though, and the gesture is not entirely reluctant.


End file.
